Page 18 of Relapse

Chapter Three

Blair

Dagger shirtless should probably qualify as a controlled substance.

Seriously.

There’s no reason one man should be allowed to look that good while simultaneously being that emotionally repressed. Broad shoulders covered in tattoos, veins dragging down his forearms, sweat still catching against his skin from the ride over here like some kind of biker-themed hallucination specifically designed to destroy my remaining common sense.

No, seriously, I’d like to file a complaint.

Unfortunately, I’m too busy mentally undressing him for the fifteenth time in ten minutes to figure out where I would do that though.

My hand slides up his chest while his mouth lowers to my throat, rough enough to leave heat blooming beneath my skin almost instantly. The counter digs into my lower back when he lifts me onto it like I weigh absolutely nothing, one sweep of his arm sending whatever was sitting there crashing somewhere onto the floor behind me.

Something glass shatters.

Very symbolic.

In the heat of the moment, I love that for us, because neither of us even glance toward it.

The tension between us stopped being normal the second he brought me back to his apartment. Now it feels like standing too close to a fire and deciding to lean in anyway just to see what burns first.

Probably me.

Again.

My head pounds, the hangover mixing with whatever I snorted or swallowed at the party house. Dagger's eyes burn with that mix of fury and relief, like despite being the reason I fucking left, he’s been hunting me for months and finally cornered his damn prize.

He doesn't say a word at first. Just grabs my hips and yanks me fully to the edge of the counter. The edge digs hard into the backs of my thighs, forcing my legs apart as he steps between them. Cabinets rattle from the force, a chaotic echo in this messy, uncontrolled space littered with dirty dishes and spilled booze.

“Well, look who’s giving into his own addiction after lecturing me,” I snap, my voice hoarse and feisty, even as my pulse races.

Internally, I'm cracking up at myself.

Great, Blair, mouth off to the guy who looks ready to devour you after months apart.

Real smart.

But in typical me fashion, the words keep coming.

“Was that the plan all along, find me hungover and glittered up from some wild night, and bring me back here so you can play caveman and get your fucking fix?”

Dagger lets out this low, irritated sound against my mouth like I’m personally ruining his life in real time, and honestly?

Fair.

His hands slide over me fast and rough, cold rings scraping against my skin while he drags me closer until there’s basically no space left between us at all.

Then his mouth crashes into mine.

Not soft, cause with him, it’s never soft.

It’s all teeth and tongue and frustration, like he’s trying to punish me and kiss me at the exact same time. The cold metal of his tongue ring drags against my mouth every time he kisses me deeper, sharp enough to make heat shoot straight through me embarrassingly fast.

God.

That stupid fucking piercing should not affect me this much.